Content and Contempt
by Sryen
Summary: Finding contempt for others is simple, yet ultimately destructive. It is fighting the contempt that is a challenge, and is what is all the more rewarding.


**Chapter 1: Songs of Hope**

Five figures moved swiftly through the night, acting with utmost caution. The one in front was an older man with an unkempt beard obscuring a large portion of his face. He took considerably longer strides than the rest of the group, and was a bit further ahead than the next figure. The next in line was a young man, no older than twenty, who had a bit of a shadow growing upon his face as well, complimenting the rest of him, which was considerably hairy. Behind him was a slightly younger boy with similar features. Although his facial hair was nothing more than a wispy patch on his chin, thick eyebrows hung over his dark brown eyes and his hair fell messily to his shoulders. Following him was a little girl who was no older than seven, and keeping up the rear was an older woman, perhaps only a bit younger than the man in the front.

The little girl began speaking but was quickly scolded by the woman in the rear. The man in front muttered something about trying to be quiet, but his gaze remained straight ahead of him. The darkness was a bit of a setback. His eyesight is normally fine in the night, but a thick fog had rolled in since the late afternoon making seeing any farther than a few feet ahead of him an impossibility.

The youngest boy in the middle tried to look at his surroundings. He had never wandered this far from the village, and he hadn't realized how scary it was out here. Every once in awhile he would see a ghostly figure appear, but whenever he looked away and back again, the figure had disappeared into the night.

After what seemed like hours, the group approached an old metal gate. They all stopped in unison and stared out dreamily. The silence was broken by an unseen sound. It sounded like a soft chirping sound that went on for a long while.

"Papa! What's that sound?" the young girl asked with a look of pure curiosity.

"Those are crickets," replied the oldest man. "They are harmless creatures who come out at night fall on the other side and sing." The girl smiled as she tried to find one of the mysterious crickets on the other side of the fence. The girls father looked at her and smiled. "There will plenty of time to hunt for crickets later. We need to get into town before day break."

The oldest man stepped close up to the gate and clutched the iron with his right hand. A jolt passed through his body, but he ignored it. The clutched another section of the gate with his other hand, and vaulted over. Half way over the fence he let out a scream of pain and fell the way onto the other side.

"What happened?" the eldest boy asked concerned.

"Nothing," the father replied, slowly picking himself up off the ground. "I'm going to warn you though, this is going to hurt. Natalie, you hold on to Bella." The older woman nodded in reply and scooped the little girl off the ground and into her arms. The rest of the family made their way over the fence, each preparing for the electrical shock. The eldest boy's face caught on the tip of the fence when climbing over, singing his beard and leaving a mark upon his face.

After resting for a minute, the family began moving again, marveling at how different the world is. They followed the path, admiring the foliage around them. All of it seemed so cheerful and happy. The father smiled at the thought. It symbolized exactly why they were here. Why they wanted to leave in the first place. A pursuit of happiness that could not be satisfied where they were. Where they were was restricting.

They came to an old wooden fence that had been built long ago. "This is it," the father said to the rest of the family, staring at it intently. They had left their old life, and ahead of them was the new life. They had just walked through the stage in between. The short narrow path had been what connected them to this world. They passed by the fence with a feeling of pure optimism.

"Well that's strange, isn't it?" The family looked around to find the source of the voice, but could see no one in the darkness. The voice rang out again. "I don't recall anyone passing by us earlier today at all. So where are these folks coming from I wonder?"

The owner of the voice slid down the hill in back of the family, who turned around to face him. "Perhaps... perhaps you just didn't see us pass through today?" the father replied as convincingly as possible. "Maybe you just missed us!"

"I don't think we missed anybody, did we?" the man answered back with a smile, revealing two rows of broken and dirty teeth. He withdrew a small knife from his belt and began tossing it in the air, catching it menacingly each time.

"I don't think we did, boss." The family looked to their left to see another man slide down the opposite hill. He joined his boss and withdrew a rusted shortsword.

"Right as always boss." The family was greeted by another man sliding down, this one with a battle axe made of either iron or steel. Two more men slid down, these two wearing full bodies of leather and holding bows made of fine oak wood.

"You know," began the boss, gripping the knife tightly. "No one is supposed to be coming from the other side. We have some orders. Do you know what our orders are?" he asked, although he knew that they were well aware of the answer. "We're to kill anyone that passes through. No exceptions."

The father began to plead, but stopped short when his wife was hit between the eyes with an iron knife now glowing crimson. She fell to the ground without a sound. The eldest brother began to make a growling noise, but was silenced with an arrow to the chest. The little girl screamed in terror, running to her fathers side. The men began to laugh. The father could see pure rage in their eyes.

Before they could react, the boss and one of the grunts charged towards them with immense speed. The leader had drawn his sword, a long dark blue blade that was nigh invisible in the night. The two archers fired down on them still, two arrows hitting the little girl in the head, one hitting the young boy in the arm. The men continued to laugh as they watched the little girl fall to the ground in a lump of blood and torn clothes. She too fell without a sound.

Tears fell down the fathers face as he held the little girl in his arms. The leader of the group could hardly contain his laughter at this point. Upon reaching what was left of the family, he made a move to stab the only son left, hoping to finish this quickly.

As the sword thrust forward, it was met by an enormous hand. The hand was propelled by a large muscular arm, which belonged to the father. The father let out a yell, and his entire body transformed. He grew almost a foot taller, and the size of his muscles increased three fold. His entire body had been covered in a thick brown fur. In his eyes was only an intent desire, a desire for retribution.

"Nayv, flee this place! This is not where you are meant to meet your end. You father will take care of this!" The young boy began to cry, but his father only smiled at him. The young boy smiled back, and ran, mustering up all of his courage. He ran southwards, to what he hoped was a new life. Gritting his teeth, he tore the arrow out of his arm and threw it to the ground. As he ran, he turned around to look at his father. He had taken the sword away from the leader and had now raised him several feet off the ground with one hand. He used his other hand to rip the mans chest open. Nayv couldn't handle watching the scene any longer. He had to get away. He ran deeper into the night, finding more courage as the screams faded away in the distance.


End file.
